


Patience

by Glueblade



Category: Radiant Historia
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-28
Updated: 2018-08-28
Packaged: 2019-07-03 20:54:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15826749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Glueblade/pseuds/Glueblade
Summary: During one of many nights of plotting, Selvan has to keep Dias's temper in check while contemplating the choices he made in his life.





	Patience

Dias swept the documents they had been brooding over from the table in a motion that just barely spared the empty wine glass next to him. Selvan watched him wearily.

"I'm sick of this. For how much longer will we allow this wench to presume she has the right to order us around?" Dias spoke in an agitated voice.

Wine, military setbacks and having to please Protea were not a good combination, especially with Dias's temper. Selvan closed his eyes and sighed. These outbursts had become almost customary lately and his own patience with their "queen" was thinning as well. Keeping both Dias and himself in line was growing increasingly difficult. More and more often, he found himself thinking of what words to spit in her face when they could finally put her up for execution.

"It's not long now," he said after a short pause, voice strained, but steady.

"It's been _years_ , Selvan." Dias was pacing across the room. Although he often dropped his overly-refined manner around Selvan, he rarely did it to this extent.

"With the way things are going, we will shortly either be in a strong enough position of power that we can dispose of her without worries, or we will have every reason to feed her to Alistel as a peace offering," Selvan replied, which made Dias stop to turn around and glare at him.

He'd found that cynicism had been a reliable way for him to keep a cool head no matter how dangerous or infuriating the situation. Unfortunately, his co-conspirator did not seem to share the sentiment.

"I will crush them, you hear me?" Dias snapped. "I just need to get the right opportunity."

One more point on which Dias could not be prevailed upon to be reasonable when under the influence of too much wine. Of course it was aggravating that their military advances against Alistel had been pushed back to this extent, but stubbornness would only do so much at this point. It was hard to judge how much their enemy knew of their movements, and how much of what they knew could be relied upon.

When there was no way to guarantee victory, the most important thing was to keep them both alive and to have contingency plans in place. In this case, it meant pinning all the blame on Protea if Alistel won and making it out unscathed as loyal servants who did all they could for the good of Granorg. Selvan was sure Dias understood their situation, but his pride as a soldier did not allow him to accept it. As for Selvan, the thought of Protea's face when they abandoned her to Alistel almost made this alternative preferable.

But for now, his main objective was to keep Dias (and himself, he had to admit) from losing his composure and spoiling their plans with premature action. Even an overly-loud shouting match might endanger them if overheard by the wrong servant. As much as he wanted to yell about his frustrations, it really wasn't a good idea.

"Come here, my love," Selvan said eventually, arms outstretched. Dias huffed, but sat down next to him on the sofa and let Selvan wrap his arms around him. It was fortunate that he was easily appeased by silly declarations of affection when drunk. "Don't worry, the Alistelians are almost as eager to have her head chopped off as we are," Selvan said carelessly as he brushed some strands of hair out of Dias's face.

"That is a nice thought," Dias admitted, resting his head on Selvan's shoulder. "Indeed," Selvan replied, "I suppose the old sages were onto something when they said you could find common ground with even your most bitter enemy."

Selvan set out to make another remark, but noticed that Dias had already fallen asleep on his shoulder. He shifted to a slightly more comfortable position for them both, then settled down to stare at the fireplace wistfully. In the end, these quiet moments were always the ones when he felt the most at peace with the world. Perhaps it would have been better to lead a quiet life, Dias stationed at some small border fortress and himself in a nearby town.

But they'd been young and ambitious and full of righteous anger at the monarchy back when they started on this path and now it was too late to turn back. He absent-mindedly carressed Dias's hair as he thought. The longer he spent in politics, the harder it seemed to achieve their dream of a great kingdom, especially with the added issue of desertification. It was far easier to rule a country that didn't have to constantly worry about having enough food.

Of course, having to regularly make bad decisions for the sake of keeping Protea quiet didn't help. Even so, he told himself they'd certainly be able to do better than Victor, although not killing your own family under a weak pretense was a low bar to clear. If only things were always so easy.

Selvan kissed Dias on the forehead and hoped that his doubts would dispel by the time morning came.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to Tanaka and Quicksilver for helping with editing!


End file.
